


Unwelcome Wound

by 221bMoonunit



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-21 23:07:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7408819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/221bMoonunit/pseuds/221bMoonunit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly is seriously wounded and could die…can something good come from this?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thank you goes out to lilsherlockian1975, who took the time to beta this. She made this story so much better. All mistakes are still mine though having her as a friend would NEVER be one!
> 
> Sometimes I’m an idiot and forget to say that I don’t own Sherlock or anything…However, I do own a cool Doctor Who mug that I think one of my friends would love to steal. 
> 
> **Important Note: I know I normally write the aftermath of certain terrible events, however this time…Um, yeah, be warned there is some violence.

 

~*~Unwelcome Wound~*~

 

~*~Part 1~*~

 

_‘What is the meaning of it, Watson?’ Said Holmes solemnly as he laid down the paper. ‘What object is served by this circle of misery and violence and fear? It must tend to some end, or else our universe is ruled by chance, which is unthinkable’…_

 

~The Cardboard Box by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

 

~*~Sherlock~*~

 

Okay, what she had done might not have been the smartest thing ever…But really…What the hell was she to have done? Hmm? What? Do nothing? Not. A. Damn. Thing? Really that wasn’t Molly Hooper. Nope. Never.

 

She refused to simply turn away and continue down the street. Nope, not happening. Though perhaps she should have dialed 999 before she had rushed in…but even if she had dialed the emergency service, Molly wouldn’t have waited…Off to the side…waiting as the screams became louder…or worse…became silent.

 

The safest thing would have been to call 999 and rush home. Where Toby, her beloved cat, waited to be fed and loved upon…but sometimes the ‘safest thing’ doesn’t always make it the ‘right thing’.

 

And to think…Today had started off as any normal day. She got up this morning. Cleaned up an unwelcomed hairball. Gone for a quick jog before coming back to her flat for a lovely shower…and gone to work. Stopping for a huge yummy muffin that made the ‘quick jog’ deem itself pointless. Utterly pointless…Then it had been a long day of countless bodies and lunch from a vending machine…and of course, the day didn’t end there…Nope! She had done mountains of endless and what seemed to be a truly bottomless pit of paperwork.

 

Part of Molly suspected that was one of the reasons Sherlock hadn’t become a cop or seemed to even have that desire was because he had no wish to deal with the bloody paperwork…that and he could pick his own cases and deem them worthy or not of his time…

 

To be honest she had been smiling then…as she was returning to her lonely flat…thinking about _him_. Handsome, wonderful, arrogant and such a wanker…Sherlock Holmes. Damn he was fine and no matter how many times she told herself he no longer mattered to her in _that_ way…that he was only and always just a friend…yeah…she would think of him…in naughty ways and non-naughty ways…

 

Her mind always seemed to turn towards that man. Okay, Molly had to admit it was hard _not_ to think about the consulting detective because he always seemed to be waiting for her…It didn’t help that lately the bastard seemed to have a problem holding onto his pens…or phone…

 

The items would fall and he would naturally pick them back up…Bending over… _Slowly_ …For some reason so damn slowly…As if he were a large cat taking the time to stretch…Of course she watched! Those trousers which she found herself envious of, cupped that seriously sweet bum of his _just right_ …the picture burned itself into her mind giving her something to perv over later while she rested alone in her bed…Allowing herself to think about a naughty Sherlock in tight trousers…with a wicked smirk… _just for her._ Asking her if she wanted anything from him…or needed anything…

 

Not that she wanted to think about all that now…

 

For here she was…Thinking about the love of her life, a love she would never have when Molly heard _it_ …

 

Again, she really should have dialed 999 or perhaps called Greg…Maybe even Sherlock…At least let him know she was about to find some serious trouble…Maybe…There had been countless things she could have done…perhaps _should have done_.

 

But that sound…she couldn’t ignore that cry…A cry of pain…A plea for help…

 

Seriously, she could have done anything other than stop and look at the dark and narrow alleyway. An alleyway that she had found herself ignoring countless times on her way home…

 

Except this time…well, this time she had heard a woman’s scream…A cry of pain. A man’s harsh voice calling her a bitch and other filthy things…Flesh hitting flesh…The woman now sobbing…begging…

 

Molly didn’t recall picking up something long and heavy to rush into the darken alley…However, she did recall finding the big man who was hitting…God, a young teenager…Perhaps fifteen…maybe sixteen?

 

Fury raced through her as she shouted at the man to stop! She warned him…But he hit the teenager again and swung towards her…In response she swung her make shift weapon and hit him hard.

 

It all happened so quickly. He was now focused on her as growled and yanked her pipe away…tossing it aside as if it was rubbish …Then…he had taken something out of his pocket and she saw a sudden flash of metal…and she knew she couldn’t stop what happened next. She couldn’t move out of the way fast enough, nor did she have a cool move that could have perhaps saved her…No…

 

Sadly, there was no way she could have stopped the blade sinking into her flash. Horrible intense pain…Oh, God…The agony of it made her fall backward onto the ground…Hard…

 

She gasped for a breath but it was hard…and with the pain in her chest…truly horrible…

 

Was this how she was going to die? It seemed so wrong somehow… _so very wrong_ …

 

Her eyes moved to look up silently at the man…her killer…

 

She wondered briefly if Sherlock would think her case interesting enough to accept the challenge of solving it…and how long it would take him if he did accept it. With her bloody luck, the handsome and brilliant bugger of a consulting detective would probably not find it worth with his time…and to be honest, that thought _hurt_ for worse than any knife wound…and laying on the dirty cold ground with a painful, ugly knife wound, well, that was saying something.

 

“You worthless bitch…” her would-be murderer snarled before he turned and ran…

 

‘He’s a bully and a coward’…She couldn’t help but think as her mind raced with shock and pain.

 

Would the girl turn and run now, too? Would she help her much like Molly had attempted to come to her aid? Or would she simply run away, hide like a wounded and scared animal? Leaving her for dead, leaving her to die alone? Here upon the cold ground…and it _really_ was so _very_ cold…so… _cold!_

 

So here she was lying upon cold dirty concrete that felt as if it was getting colder by the second as her blouse…one of her favorites…was getting wetter.

 

Molly couldn’t… Blast it all, she didn’t want to die! Not yet! Who would take care of Toby or her houseplants? Plus, never to see Sherlock again…ever…no…

 

Yet, she knew…logically that she _was_ dying…For it was getting harder to breathe…Couldn’t quite seem to get much needed air into her lungs no matter how hard she tried.

 

Molly vaguely heard a scared and foolishly young female voice…She felt a hand search her pockets for her phone…the girl was apologizing and something about how a brute had broken her own phone but that she needed to call for help and hoped she could find hers…

 

The voice seemed to be fading and she honestly wasn’t sure the words made sense.

 

Oddly, enough she noticed the sound of traffic…The heart of the city alive with movement while she was completely still…

 

Molly felt her eyes drop as if she had no energy left to do more than that. Red…White…they both seemed so bright behind her eye lids and so very _painful_.

 

Even though she knew that she didn’t have the strength left she tried to desperately get air into her lungs.

 

Then…not even sure how she felt about it…there was suddenly _nothing_ but a pure, lonely, heart wrenching darkness…

 

~*~End of part 1~*~

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I took some things from ‘Thor’s Bridge’ and thought it funny if Sherlock was showing how brilliant he is and Lestrade is not really paying attention. 
> 
> Also, dear, beloved readers, please remember, this is fiction so if the medical (like things dealing with Molly’s wound) or crime scene stuff please forgive anything wrong. Just take note that I tried and I’m not perfect…and if you want to know the truth sometimes I don’t care if I get something wrong…One of my favorite original Sherlock Holmes stories has a snake that drinks milk and lives inside a safe that I assume has no air holes…and is trained! And the free roaming leopard upon the estate never once kills it’s asshole of a master or eats that silly free roaming baboon…And I love Arthur Conan Doyle, he is a genius and though I know I’m not a genius I am simply having some fun…So if I get medical or crime scene stuff wrong…yeah, sorry.

 

~*~Unwelcome Wound~*~

 

~*~Part 2~*~

 

_His face set like flint as he glared at our prisoner, who was sitting up with a dazed face. ‘By the Lord, it is as well for you. If you had killed Watson, you would not have got out of this room alive. Now, sir, what have you to say for yourself?’_

 

_He had nothing to say for himself._

 

-The Three Garridebs by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

 

~*~Sherlock~*~

 

The woman’s body lay exactly where she had died…where she had obviously been murdered.

 

Sherlock Holmes studied her with sharp extremely cold eyes. He was seeing _everything_ …deducing and coming up with nothing but the absolute truth of the matter before him. The dead woman held countless answers not mysteries…at least not to him. Squatting down beside her, he paid little mind to the police and others at the crime scene.

 

“Obviously this is murder…” Lestrade stated not in the least unsettled by any of this. His phone went off and his face flashed a bit with annoyance for he wanted to focus on this not whoever was now waiting for his attention. Yet, his hand went to the pocket he always kept his phone in and answered it briskly and in a no nonsense manner.

 

Sherlock ignored Lestrade even as his eyes looked away from the woman’s body to narrow at something a small distance away. He gave a smile as if he found something clever. His fingers reached out and touched the gash within the stone…Surprisingly, he then reached out and lifted a colorful purse…he seemed to be weighing it…Eyes still no longer on the small woman.

 

Finally, Sherlock looked over at Lestrade quite coldly before stating with iron clad certainty, “This was _not_ murder. She quite clearly killed herself.”

 

John, who was waiting close by and watching his best friend, was about to point out that Sherlock had finally done it…he was now clearly a nutter who needed professional help…For how in the hell could this be suicide? She had been shot in the head and there was no gun laying anywhere upon this small private stone bridge…But before he could open his mouth to point this out to the legendary consulting detective he noticed something odd about Greg…

 

Greg Lestrade in short harsh sentences he demanded answers…to whoever he was talking to on his phone…The way his eyes drifted to Sherlock and John…The good doctor suddenly knew that something _horrible_ had just happened and he wasn’t going to like it…Whatever **_it_** was.

 

Lestrade’s features were expressionless but extremely pale, and there was a clear storm gathering in that man’s eyes.

 

“Call me immediately with any more news, do you understand me? Don’t let a second go by!” Greg said abruptly ending the call as he placed the phone back into his coat’s pocket. Greg studied Sherlock before he finally nodded slowly…His mind clearly not on the woman’s corpse before them.

 

“So…” Greg slowly continued, “Did I hear you say this is suicide? Well, I’m certain that you are sure so okay; we’ll write it all up. Ta mate…I’m grateful.”

 

There was no shock or sarcasm in the man’s tone, simply a statement of fact.

 

Sherlock stood, tall and highly proud of himself yet slightly annoyed that Lestrade didn’t want to argue with him or to hear how he solved this case…he loved that bit…Telling and showing the ‘how they did it’…Yet, the law man was not asking for proof…which was always important.

 

So, he decided to get on with it.

 

“Yes, suicide.This coldly cruel and brilliant woman was attempting to frame her husband and his mistress for her death. Everything that points to them, _she_ clearly planted everything to point that way. You will find gun residue upon her hand and if you will place divers down into the lake you will find the gun she used and tied to a rope and the missing dumbbell…which I will remind you when I quickly went through the estate I noticed missing right away.”

 

Greg simply nodded, his mind seemed elsewhere which one could clearly see annoyed Sherlock greatly. Greg looked over at John to stare for what seemed to be a few seconds but felt like _hours_ …to suddenly shout over his shoulder, “Bates! Come over here!”

 

When Bates rushed over to Greg he quickly pointed out Sherlock to tell him, “You will write everything down this man says to you and I mean _everything…_ and get some divers down in that lake.” He looked over at Sherlock before continuing, “Again, Sherlock this is all brilliant, and I’m sure this is one of your best cases! Now, please tell Bates here everything that took place here. Be slow and detailed because Bates here is…um, well, never you mind…Hey, John, I seriously need to talk to you…way over there…away from… _people_.”

 

He even jerked his chin over his shoulder as if that told John just how important it was to talk somewhere privately.

 

Now, Sherlock actually looked more offended. “You do realize that whatever it is that you have to say to John…away from my presence mind you…He’ll tell me about later, he can’t keep a secret. Ever.”

 

“Oi, I can!” John declared now Sherlock wasn’t the only one offended.

 

Sherlock narrowed his eyes before asking calmly, “What did you get me for my birthday?”

 

“A book about some unsolved crimes in the 19th century…oh…wait…”

 

“Was that a secret, John?” Sherlock asked coldly and pointedly.

 

John suddenly looked angry at his best friend and at himself…still it was to Sherlock he spoke to as he told him with all the love he held for the man within his large, caring heart…

 

“Oh, sod off you bloody annoying prick!”

 

“John… _Please_ …” Greg pleaded; he took a few steps and placed a hand upon the doctor’s shoulder. John turned his face towards him. His eyes suddenly went wide with deep worry before he nodded and stepped away with him. As they began walking away Greg called out, “Sherlock just tell Bates everything that you know and he’ll write it all down!”

 

“I know your boss pretty much called you a dumb arse…Yeah, that’s right you go ahead and write that down…Word for word.” Sherlock was heard clearly informing Bates in a dry, flat tone.

 

When Greg felt he was far enough away and out of sight of Sherlock. He came to a jerky stop and faced John. He swallowed hard and ran a hand over his face…to intensely study the ground.

 

“Okay, you have me worried, now, what’s wrong?” John asked with genuine concern.

 

It took a moment before one of the best of Scotland Yard lifted his eyes to meet his.

 

“It’s…it’s Molly…Molly Hooper…”

 

Greg knew that this man too shard the momentary heart stopping fear of knowing that something was seriously wrong. John shifted and swallowed hard before he whispered as if saying it out loud would make whatever happened to Molly far less worse…

 

“Something bad has happened to her hasn’t it?” John didn’t care if he was being obvious or not. Sometimes things just needed to be said out loud.

 

Greg nodded. “She’s been taken to the hospital fighting for her life. Going through emergency surgery even as we speak…A teenager called it in. Seems she had been attacked and Molly went to help but she ended up being stabbed. They are not sure, um, they’re not sure if she’s going to make it. It doesn’t look good. From what I was told Molly received one stab wound and the knife…well, one of her lungs collapsed and they fear there is indeed internal bleeding.”

 

John too looked suddenly pale, he took a deep breath before muttering, “Yeah, t-that’s not good.”

 

They were quiet for a long moment as both men’s thoughts and prayers went towards the sweet, lovely woman they both thought of as a friend.

 

“The thing is…What do we tell Sherlock?” Greg finally asked. “What will he do? Anything? Nothing? I tell you right now, John, if that bastard simply shrugs this off…I’m punching him in the face, hard. I don’t care what might happen…”

 

John gave him a strong look of understanding. “Yeah, me too, mate.”

 

“Yet I remember that American burglar that was stupid enough to scare and hurt Mrs. Hudson…Sherlock threw the bugger out the window, more than once!” Greg reminded him.

 

John, of course, nodded for he too remembered that quite well. “Mrs. Hudson is his landlady and he may never say it aloud but he does care deeply about her…Whereas Molly…just between us, I have always felt that she was…um…”

 

He left the sentence hanging…as if uncertain he should dare say the word aloud.

 

_“His,”_ Greg stated, not at all uncertain.

 

John studied the silver haired man before he agreed. “Yeah, his…always _his_ …his pathologist…his Molly…I know she’s special to him…in fact I have always thought they’d make a damn fine couple…you know, if Sherlock wasn’t such an arse.”

 

Greg made a sound that could have been agreement or he just really needed a hanky.

 

They both fell silent wondering what Sherlock’s reaction would be to _his_ Molly wounded…fighting for her life…What did she really mean to the man? At the end of the day did the man even give a shit?

 

“Has the man been found who did this to her?” John finally asked, knowing there was heartfelt concern in his voice.

 

Greg shook his head even before he uttered the word. “No, but luckily the teenager that Molly had attempted to help is hanging around to give our sketch artist the much needed information and we’re looking for him.”

 

“If Molly dies…” John breathed.

 

“If Molly dies…” A familiar hard voice spoke from the shadows causing both men to look over to the darkness where Sherlock had to be. He slowly took a few silent steps into the light. “The bastard who hurt my Molly will become an unsolved mystery…One I seriously doubt anyone will want to solve but for the moment, I’m going to the hospital…and, um, _Greg_ …”

 

Both men seemed to freeze, with suddenly wide eyes, all the while holding their breath for really, Sherlock **_never_** said Lestrade’s first name correctly. Never!

 

Until now…

 

Which was odd and seemed out of space, so whatever Sherlock was about to reveal had to be something big and important…right?

 

“Have you ever wondered about what I do to those body parts when I’m done with them? Hmm?” Strange question from the tall, dark haired man that was spoke so damn casually…yet, there was something dangerous about it. Spoken so low and soft…

 

A question so unexpected just as unexpected as Sherlock getting Lestrade’s first name correct.

 

“Have you noticed that I never send them back to Bart’s for proper disposal? Or even the strong chemical smell that seems to take a full two days to leave Baker Street or sometimes to certain places I feel don’t mind the smell? Or even the odd and I feel quite noticeable chemical stains and burns upon my fingers?” As more questions poured from Sherlock’s lips, his eyes and face seemed to grow colder…cruel in the light and so unforgivingly hard. Still spoken so casually but the tone seemed even more dangerous…so much more deadly.

 

Sherlock slowly titled his head and waited a few heart beats as if awaiting the answers or for a hand to rise as if in a large class room. When none came a merciless smirk formed upon his lips. “I will give you twenty-four hours starting now out of respect to you and your brand of justice, Lestrade…However if not, that worthless criminal’s body will never be found for I know how to dissolve bodies, though, I’ve never dissolved one while someone is still very much alive… _yet…but I’m certain it could happen._ ”

 

Sherlock took a deep breath before asking, his tone now warm, “Are you coming with me, John?”

 

John was smart enough not to question where.He began to move to Sherlock’s side while saying, “Of course, wherever you go, I’m there.”

 

A brief flash of something entered the consulting detective’s eyes. Relief? Maybe, perhaps, something more. Knowing that John would always be that trusted loyal friend…perhaps, even when they were both old and grey especially when Sherlock _needed_ him to be at his side. Though Sherlock would never admit it out loud.

 

Together they turned to walk away together, before Sherlock stopped and turned back to Greg to state, “Oh! Right! For legal purposes I must inform you that I was _clearly_ joking with you.”

 

Sherlock gave a clearly fake smile. Teeth pure white, he honestly looked like a sociopath…or worse, a predator about to go hunt its prey.He continued, “You know, how I’m such a comedian, _Gavin,_ I really should be upon the stage! Oh, how I love pulling your leg! Speaking of legs, you really should consider donating those beauties to science when you die. Just a thought, anyway, I’ll leave you to your more important work. I’m sure you will have something to tell me within say… _twenty-four hours_ …though if Molly should die before then you will have less than that. Laters!”

 

With that Sherlock and John walked away at a quick, brisk determined pace.

 

Greg found himself watching until they faded completely from sight.

 

Only then did he breathe. “Damn…”

 

Greg, too, finally turned away. For he really had some serious work to do. Work he did not intend to fail in doing. He intended to find that worthless son of a bitch who had dared hurt Sherlock’s Molly and _quickly_ …he really had no choice in the matter. Nope, no choice at all…

 

However if he _accidentally_ tripped and hurt the man while in his custody…well, it wasn’t his fault that he was a clumsy old man now was it?

~*~End of part 2~*~


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Reader: I have made a joke in this story. I love the movie ‘Pride and Prejudice’ with Colin Firth and I don’t believe Mycroft Holmes would like this movie as this fic might suggest. You see my former boyfriend had this brother who would ask to borrow some money…and my ex would suggest a movie night and force him to watch movies he knew damn well he wouldn’t like. Be it sibling petty revenge or whatever. He would annoy the brother the best way he knew how. So much so he had asked to borrow my ‘Pride and Prejudice’ movie which I did with the threat that if he didn’t return it in a timely manner I would hunt him down like a lion does a gazelle! He gave it back of course and I can’t help but think that Mycroft would also be crafty and evil…How to best annoy his baby brother by making him watch something he normally wouldn’t willingly watch. So I hope you to find this funny and remember Sherlock always misses something, so yeah, a spy thriller might be more Mycroft’s tastes unless it’s to annoy his brother!

 

~*~Unwelcome Wound~*~

 

~*~Part 3~*~

 

_It was worth a wound-it was worth many wounds-to know the depth of loyalty and love which lay behind that cold mask._

 

-The Three Garridebs by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

 

~*~Sherlock~*~

 

The world is a foggy, blurring place. At least that was Molly’s dim thought as she slowly regained consciousness and weakly opened her eyes…completely aware of the strong smell of antiseptic and _the pain_. God! Let’s not forget that! Her body wanted her to be reminded of this fact…

 

Plus, she could actually _feel_ the cannula in her nose and for some odd reason that annoyed her more than her hurting body. Here she felt raw, sore, sick and bruised but that damn blasted tube made things so much worse!

 

“Why you sodding arsehole…” Molly heard a deep familiar voice speak close by.

 

She honestly thought about asking Sherlock _why_ he was at her bedside calling her names and not even interesting ones at that. Really, she thought the man could do so much better. Wasn’t there a resent case he had done where he pretended to be a sailor? She simply expected better from him, that’s all, or perhaps he was attempting to be a gentleman…Not wanting to be too vulgar in front of her…

 

“Lestrade, you damn fuc—“ Sherlock broke uppity off as he noticed her trying to stare at him.

 

Things still seemed a bit foggy and ‘other worldly’ so to speak but she was starting to see a tad bit more clearly…Just a tad…

 

“Molly…” Sherlock breathed as he quickly pocketed his phone that she now just released that he had been directing his rage toward reading and sending texts… His face at the moment was in hers.

 

Molly blinked hard trying to get her eyes to focus. She was also attempting to desperately remember how or why she was here in this hospital bed…Um…The _pain_ that seemed to be radiating from her chest and body had to have something to do with it…See? She could be just as observant as Sherlock Holmes!

 

A lean, strong hand spread gently against her cheek. A kind, gentle movement that held so much meaning…at least it meant the world to her. Oh, that soft sweet caress held so much warmth and kindness…to the world it might seem out of character for Sherlock to do such, even to _him_ …but to her…she knew it meant he trusted her to reveal such a side of himself.

 

Molly made a noise deep within her throat and Sherlock quickly shhh’ed her, telling her softly that everything was going to be okay. As he did this, things were finally beginning to become clearer and into focus…To see Sherlock move and reach over to hit a button close by.

 

_Oh…_

 

**_Nice…_ **

 

Yes, that was exactly what she needed. Her pain meds…

 

Sherlock Holmes might be a lot of things but at the moment he was her hero…for she could really use those pain meds. Luckily, Sherlock seemed to know this…damn, she was a lucky woman! Molly couldn’t help but feel a great deal of warmth of emotion for the man…

 

Molly took a deep breath to regret it immediately.

 

Blast! That hurt, really, really hurt…

 

“Perhaps, I should tell your caregivers that you are waking up…” Sherlock began in a low, almost gentle tone. Seriously, the man had the most beautiful voice she had ever heard. It seemed to caress lovingly over her sore, hurting body with a healing, almost perfect and affectionate touch. “However, at the moment they are being quite hostile in their displeasure towards me and I fear will not be as worthy as they should be in the taking care of you…so…it is best that I wait and allow things to calm down a bit…or better yet, wait for the changeover. Though never fear, I’ll keep a good and close eye on you and if necessary I can have John come in to look you over.”

 

Molly attempted to wet her dry lips with her even drier tongue…Yeah, she should have instantly realized that move wouldn’t work out so well.

 

Suddenly she noticed a straw in front of her seemly out of nowhere. Weakly she put her lips on it and sucked…Cold, refreshing water…Goodness that felt wonderful!

 

“Gentle, Molly…Suck gently…” Sherlock spoke in a quiet murmur, before pulling it away and setting it down.

 

“Ta…” Molly muttered back thankfully. She blinked at him thinking just how lovely and handsome this man looked. Her heart happily reminded her that she was very much alive as he carefully took her hand with his.

 

Oh, this was lovely! The feel of his touch…as Sherlock’s eyes seemed to search her face as if looking for some type of clue for an important case.

 

Slowly, she processed what Sherlock had told her and she finally asked curiously, “What…um…” She suddenly found she needed to clear her throat before she tried once more, “Why are they upset with you?”

 

Sherlock quickly looked away from her face to study her fingers instead…His eyes seemed so very focused and intense as his strong, warm hand held hers.

 

It seemed to take forever before he finally spoke in a low tone. “They refused to tell me a bloody damn thing, Molly. I wasn’t family…I wasn’t anything to them…Just someone who was supposed to wait quietly off to the side somewhere…Waiting for family to be contacted and see if they decided to let me know what was going on. I may have not been… _pleasant…_ in my displeasure over what had happened to you and the fact they refused to tell me a damn bloody thing! I wasn’t even on your emergency contact list so…I attempted to find out myself what they refused to tell me. I attempted to enter and take over the recovery room and before that the emergency room where your surgery was taking place. Threats were made. Security and the police may have been called…forcing me to call my brother, Mycroft and simply telling him that I needed him…I may have even said ‘please’.”

 

It wasn’t until that moment Sherlock looked disgusted with himself…The rest of it…he was okay with but saying ‘please’ or ‘help me’to his brother…he’d rather have an accident happen with dull scissors and a certain part that made him a male.

 

Also, Molly had a strong feeling that there had been no ‘simply’ about the whole thing. She could see the whole thing in her head. Sherlock calling Mycroft instead of texting, which that alone would have made his brother sit up and take notice. Then without even saying ‘hello’ or ‘I hate you’ to the other Holmes he said only, ‘I need you, please’…and then ending the call with nothing more to say or even taking the time to explain things. Would that not have been a heart stopping moment for the famously cold man? Well, whatever Mycroft had done…after his heart restarted of course, must have worked for Sherlock to be in the room with her now and not in some cell.

 

Silence filled the room; there was nothing awkward about the silence however.In fact, it even felt nice…maybe it was because of the hand that held hers that made everything…better…so… _nice_. Somehow almost perfect.

 

Even if she was in pain with her body still feeling raw and sore, having Sherlock kindly hold her hand made the pain bearable.

 

With his other hand he turned her hand over for even closer inspection.

 

“You have an old small scar that I have never noticed before,” Sherlock stated as if taken by surprise.

 

Molly nodded. “Not that noticeable to be quite honest. It’s an old scar from my childhood.”

 

“From jumping a high metal decorative fence…” Sherlock was able to deduce somehow before asking softly, “Why? Why did you jump that fence?”

 

Molly attempted to shrug but instead winced as her body reminded her that it was best not to make any sudden movements…for some time anyway…maybe, _never_ …for **ouch!**

 

“I heard what sounded like a cat in lots of pain so I quickly trespassed upon my neighbor’s property and sliced that finger pretty badly. It even needed a couple of stitches. Hurt like hell for quite a while.” Molly found herself explaining what had happened so many years ago when she had been a foolish child that was willing to take on the whole world to save a cat she didn’t even know.

 

“Did you save the cat in question?”

 

Molly sighed, feeling suddenly embarrassed at Sherlock’s question. “No, the cat in question was in heat and a big tom was trying to ‘take care of important business’. Neither one of them liked me interrupting their porn session. I felt so bloody stupid! There I was standing on my neighbor’s property, a neighbor who was mean and had no use for children and all I had was a bleeding, sore finger…I had to re-climb that blasted fence…so I was not a happy camper!”

 

“No doubt,” Sherlock stated with a small, quick smile that faded just as suddenly as it had appeared. Still not looking away from her fingers or that scar that he had found…He caressed it so damn tenderly…carefully…as if it was still a sore wound that needed great care…He raised her fingers to her lips and Molly felt her heart stop for a single second as he brushed soft kisses against each finger…Before coming back to the one with the scar to leave a much longer and firmer kiss upon it. As he moved her hand away from those sexy lips of his, he still held her hand in a firm grasp before saying hoarsely, “Sounds like you. Hear an animal or a person in need you go off running not even caring that you might just end up carrying a scar from the experience… _or worse_.”

 

Only then did his eyes meet hers.

 

Molly tried to take a deep breath but the action hurt far too much so it was only a short gulp of air…She knew instantly that later she’d be expected to do exercises to help her lungs get back to normal all with a silly little device though at the moment her body needed rest and it was reminding her of that fact quite sharply. So now all she could do was wince.

 

Those beautiful eyes stared at her…With an almost predatory look...So very sharp and clearly intelligent…Sherlock’s eyes. Breathtakingly sexy and so very gorgeous. They could be quite cold at times. So deadly yet there was something…An odd warmth that could enter them. Those eyes seemed to hint at many great secrets…secrets he’d only reveal as he deemed necessary. At the moment those eyes seemed stormy. Filled with emotions that he, being _the_ great Sherlock Holmes, had absolutely no use for. He may normally refuse to accept or even show emotions for he thought they were rubbish…She, however, didn’t think that and she could actually _see_ them in this man. Those emotions were deep, true and so very, very _real_.

 

There was something completely beautiful about it but she feared she could be reading far too much within those eyes of his…Yet…Surely those emotions weren’t a lie…

 

“I must admit that I’m furious at the man who did this to you, but I’m also angry with _you_ , Molly.” Sherlock admitted slowly and softly. There seemed to be a huge wealth of reprimand in his voice.

 

Molly blinked for what the hell could she say to that? Really, what? So, she simply ignored it to ask, “Is that girl who needed help, okay?”

 

Sherlock clinched his jaw and looked back down at her hand. It looked so pale and fragile within that strong yet gentle grip of his.

 

“She’s fine. She gave a perfect detailed description to the police which helped Lestrade in finding that abhorrent man who does not deserve to still be breathing.”

 

“Oh…” Molly breathed, not knowing how wide her eyes had gotten. There was something dangerous in the air when Sherlock spoke of the abhorrent man…something so very deadly…

 

She had a serious feeling that if it was up to Sherlock the man wouldn’t last long in this world nor would he lose any sleep if something awful were to befall the man in question.

 

They were again quiet. Her eyes still wide as he lifted her hand once more to his lips. Eyes now focused completely on her face. He again kissed her fingers…those lips than moved to press itself to her palm before they moved…so very slowly…a slow, loving heat moved through her as those lips traveled as if mapping a trail to her wrist and the pulse that rested there…Pounding away.

 

Molly had never experienced such a thing in her life and she found the experience to be so beautifully intimate. So very private, just between the two of them, it was so very loving and affectionate. Those soft, firm and so damn sexy lips moved to rest upon her skin…To feel her pulse…to taste her skin…

 

The vein was happy to meet those lips with a pure beat that actually seemed to dance with life. It was a wild and carefree dance…

 

There was something so compelling within Sherlock’s eyes…so damn wonderfully mesmerizing…Molly couldn’t look away…not that she wanted to, for she didn’t but if she had wanted to…there was no way in hell she would have been able to.

 

His lips so soft, so gentle upon her smooth skin. For a moment she felt a light lick, pure soft wet velvet cross over her pulse…And those eyes, Sherlock’s eyes, darkened…Then he slowly moved his face and her hand…Making her hand touch his cheek and he closed his eyes. He made a soft sound as if he was surrendering to her touch. Her fingers lightly rubbed his cheek, for it was the only part of her that she could move…Soft…Gentle…Loving…She put everything she felt for him in that touch…Wanting…Needing him to know in some way that she loved him…would always love him…

 

He still kept a firm grip upon her hand as if he was worried that she’d remove it…but she wouldn’t, no not that! Never that.

 

“Why…” Sherlock suddenly trailed off as if he needed a moment to find the right words. He slowly opened his eyes. There was worry, concern as well as anger before asking, “Why is Lestrade your blasted emergency contact?”

 

Molly blinked hard wondering where that question came from. To be honest she didn’t understand why he needed to know…What did it matter?

 

“Well…why not?” Molly finally asked softly.

 

Sherlock gave her a look of pure disgust.

 

“Why not? Really that is all you have to say? _He_ can be contacted and be told all kinds of things for you actually signed papers giving _him_ legal right to know…While _I’m_ told that I can bloody well wait and someone will be by later to fill me in.”

 

“Well…Greg is family…not by blood but by marriage for he’s married to my cousin. I mean, I don’t like her and she’s a bit of a whore but at least he’s the one family member I can truly trust to be responsible and not try to the ‘pull the plug’ when there is no need to even pull it…I have some family members that sadly would rob me blind while I lay here in this hospital bed perhaps even try to sell my organs on the black market. Trust me; Greg is the best choice that I have…”

 

“Wait, Lestrade’s married to _your_ cousin?! The adulteress sex addict and kleptomaniac who also collect those creepy porcelain angels…is your cousin?”

 

“Yes. I’m not fond of her but at least she can be nice at times…you know when she isn’t stealing shit and humping any man or woman within a mile radius…I thought you had deduced a long time ago that Greg and I were related through marriage…You know, he dated another cousin of mine who later joined a cult and attempted to kill five people as well as the cult leader…so I don’t think he did all that bad marrying the one he did. I mean really, no one’s perfect.”

 

“No, I never deduced that for I seem to always miss something,” Sherlock informed her softly. He moved her hand so he could kiss the inside of her wrist once more. “However, it seems that now _I’m_ your first emergency contact. As your husband I should have a much legal right to know when your heath is in jeopardy. More so than Lestrade who is related to you by a marriage that has been doom to fail even before the ink dried on that ridiculous legal document.”

 

“I-I think it’s sweet that they keep trying…Wait a-a m-minute…did you say **_husband_**?”

 

Sherlock shifted in his chair slightly. He still retained possession of her hand as if he had absolutely no attention of letting go. His thumb was now creating lazy, soothing circles upon her flesh. His eyes narrowed upon her face as if he was willing to fight over this matter…fight for her…for them.

 

“You heard me, Molly. I’m certain you don’t need to have your ears checked while you are here.”

 

Molly’s eyes may have been wide but she continued to look at him with a calm steady gaze. They both noticed that she never once made an attempt to remove her hand from his.

 

“I was forced to think about some things,” Sherlock continued, his soft tone twisted in her heart. There was a note in his voice that she could quite identify… Tender, beautiful and oh so velvety soft. “I’ve told you before how… _important_ …you are and I must say that not having you in my world seems…so very _wrong_ …I find that I want to be there for you and protect you and…and, um…and…”

 

Could it be he wished to say… _love_ …?

 

“And?” Molly prompted her voice a pure, sweet whisper…full of hope…

 

Sherlock looked down at her hand and for a moment tightened his fingers, biting slightly into her flesh…it didn’t hurt…It looked as if for a moment he was going to refuse to answer…

 

“How dare you scare me like that...” Sherlock accused in a slight thick voice.

 

Molly felt her eyes water before telling him honestly, “I didn’t mean too, honest.”

 

“I know…but I do hate that…having _emotions_ and _feelings_ thrust upon me. They are highly un-useful,” Sherlock informed her, his sharp eyes still on her hand.

 

Molly once more attempted to draw in a breath. “I’m sorry Sherlock, I-I never meant—“

 

“I know you never meant to make me vulnerable, but you do. I don’t like _caring_ , Molly, not at all,” He interrupted her sharply.

 

“I know and I’m really sorry—“

 

“SHUT UP.” Sherlock growled darkly his eyes back on hers. “Just…shut up.”

 

Surprised, she blinked rapidly.

 

“Stop saying you are sorry. The fact of the matter is I do care…hell, I love you…and I can’t find a bloody way to stop! I blame you for if you weren’t so damn special and unique…so important…I’m certain I wouldn’t care as I do! There are rules that I follow. Logical rules that I completely understand! I willingly follow those set of rules and sometimes I even follow the idiotic rules of this land…but you… _You_ , Molly are the one person I’ve ever known… _the only person_ …who trumps any man made rules, especially my own.”

 

“Oh…” Molly breathed.

 

“Yes… _oh_ …I’m making a commitment to you and you will do the same for me. I don’t do stupid romance or even understand relationships all that well…and I’m certain that John is completely right; I’ll make a complete arse of myself, most if not all of the time. I’ll say things that may embarrass you or even hurt you but no matter what…I’ll love you…be there for you. We have known each other for many years and I know your faults and you know mine…I don’t think either of us cares about that. However, there will be no more running into dark alleys…or any other reckless things. As your husband I’m putting my foot down about that. As a family member, Mycroft will be giving you an emergency button which you will press in an emergency or even if you _feel_ something is off…If you don’t press it and something bad should happen you will be punished in the most cruel and evil of manner. Mycroft will sit you down before him and he will silently stare almost unblinkingly for twenty-three minutes and fifteen seconds before he tells you just how disappointed he is that you didn’t press that all important button. Then he will stare some more. Finally he sighs and declares that he has forgiven you for being stupid and then he thinks it is a fantastic idea to spend some ‘bonding’ time by forcing you to watch his favorite movie ‘Pride and Prejudice’ with Colin Firth…Trust me, Molly, it will be over five hours of complete and total **_hell_**.”

 

“Marriage, really Sherlock _, marriage_?” Molly whispered, taking note that the man she loved was not asking but telling her.

 

Sherlock’s eyes went dark and he kissed the back of her hand. “Hmm, yes, _marriage_ …I have always felt that marriage completely ruins society. It was created for religious and political reasons. In truth, I felt it to be a slight form of slavery or something to that effect. However, I find that I don’t mind being yours or you being mine. You might have imprisoned that dried up organ that rests within my chest but I’m willing to be your loving jailer. I’ll learn…hopefully…how to cherish you just as I’m sure you’ll learn to obey.”

 

Molly slowly shook her head. “I doubt I will learn to obey, Sherlock.”

 

Sherlock gave her a snort. “You give me body parts day or night…and my dinner when I text you do so…how is that not already a form of obeying me?”

 

“Oh, do shut up,” Molly muttered, looking away. Knowing that was sadly true. Many times he could text her and order her to bring over body parts and food to Baker Street.

 

Sherlock gave her a smug smile before he once more brushed his lips against the flesh of her skin. The touch of his lips upon her hand felt gentle, tender and soothing.

 

Molly felt his fingers caress and slid over the pulse beating inside her inner wrist. The warmth of his hand felt so good…that touch of Sherlock’s was even better.

 

Here her body was feeling so very weak. So sore…bruised on the inside and outside…There was a brutal mark desperately trying to heal itself and when it did there was going to be a scar. She needed to rest…needed to heal…

 

Even with the pain meds she felt the dull unrelenting ache and she needed to allow herself to close her eyes to slumber. Except she really must talk to Sherlock…

 

He had ‘feelings’ for her…Loved her and was now demanding marriage. Heaven forbid Sherlock Holmes askes like a normal man…

 

Molly really should panic…Shouldn’t she?

 

But it wasn’t panic she felt at all when it came to Sherlock.

 

“Sherlock…” She said in a small voice. “We’ve never dated…Never even snogged and a kiss on the cheek does not count!”

 

Sherlock snorted before responding, “You are everything to me, Molly. Must I remind you that we have known each other for _years_! How many times have we talked over a body lying upon your slab? Hmm? All those meaningful conversations. I could easily consider those dates and to be honest the best dates I have ever been on! We already _know_ each other. I know you love me _and_ the way I have been purposely showing off my posterior whenever we have been alone…What, do you think I’m normally so clumsy with my writing utensils? Do I normally wear such tight trousers? Well, yes, maybe…The point is I put on that show for you for a reason. I completely enjoyed seeing the aftermath of each slow and pointed bend over. The way your breathing changed…the dilated pupils…That one day where I slowly rubbed my buttocks…I know damn well that I made you horny…However, I’m tired of playing games and purposely flirting with you and never once being attacked!”

 

“Oh! I should have realized you did all that bending over on purpose! A part of me even suspected as much!”

 

Sherlock chuckled, kissing her hand. “Of course you did…I was wondering when you would start to drop items so I myself would end up tempted beyond all reason!”

 

“And would I have tempted you beyond all reason, Sherlock, really?” Molly couldn’t help but ask.

 

“God, yes.” He breathed. “Very much so and it was a game I would have taken much pleasure in…we can still enjoy doing that, when you are better of course…”

 

“I do wish…Sherlock…you and me…we still haven’t kissed…a right proper kiss.” Molly decided to point out. If he said it was because her lips were too small she’d slap him. It would be a very weak slap; perhaps the weakest in the history of slaps, but it would happen! But to be completely honest she really wouldn’t mind a kiss…His lips upon hers…In her head it seemed like a lovely idea.

 

Sherlock gave her a long look as if he could easily read her mind. “I’m kissing your hand, Molly…see we are kissing…”

 

To prove his point he brought her palm to his mouth and pressed a kiss into its center before continuing, “I normally don’t go around kissing a woman’s hand…nor a man’s to be quite honest…yet, look I’m putting my germs all over you…I wonder if this could be considered a form of marking one’s territory…hmm, tell me, Molly, do you know where this hand has been lately?”

 

Molly nearly laughed out loud before being reminded _sharply_ that it would _hurt_!

 

“Sherlock…”

 

“Molly…It’s not easy for a man such as myself to admit to feeling the way I do…Or even admitting to myself that I love you and want a relationship. As for a serious and passionate round of snogging that you seem to have your heart set on…you are in a hospital bed…So no…not going to happen…Seriously, Molly you are whiter than those countless shirts of mine that Mrs. Hudson irons. Plus, I can’t promise to stop if I do try to snog the hell out of you and at the moment…well, I’m really not in the mood and you can blame John for that.”

 

Instantly Molly wondered why she should be blaming John… “I can?”

 

“Hmm, yes.” Sherlock even gave a nod in confirmation. “John did not like the idea of me barreling into the operating room and I may have dared him to try and stop me…So…Um, he did stop me by punching me savagely hard in the bollocks. I now fear that I’m seriously bruised down there. Everyone always thinks John is so _nice,_ but he’s not. He’s mean and quite _rude_ which might explain why I’m his only best friend. So, anyway, no serious snogging until things down there are feeling better.”

 

Molly smiled for she really couldn’t help herself. Too bad she honestly wasn’t in the mood to tease him by offering to kiss it better.

 

Sherlock flashed a small brief teasing smile before saying, “You know I’m starting to wonder if I’m not in an abusive relationship with that man.”

 

She laughed even if it hurt like crazy.

 

“Oh, what the hell…” Sherlock muttered, before he suddenly leaned over and caught her lips with his. It wasn’t a passionate kiss to start a wild fire though she knew it could have but it was a kiss that held promise. A beautiful promise of more…passion…love…A warm loving kiss…A gentle kiss that warmed her from her head to her toes…It was a kiss that told her she was home and safe.

 

Here she was in a hospital bed…hurting and needing to heal…Molly knew her body was much too fragile for anything more than soft and gentle…But there was a promise that when she was better he’d devour her with his lips…his hands…

 

A sweet vow…His vow to her…

 

He pulled his lips away and leaned back into his chair. Tears burned behind her eyes…

 

Sherlock still held on to her hand…

 

He loved her and wanted to marry her…

 

With his free hand he cupped her check. “Sleep, now, Molly…I’ll be right here…I promise.”

 

Molly opened her mouth but no words came out…He gave her a loving look that she wasn’t use to. He moved again…Suddenly raining soft kisses…her forehead and when she finally closed her eyes she felt those lovely lips gently press themselves there as well…

 

And so…She did in fact fall asleep trusting that he would still be there when she woke up…

 

He was…

 

Of course he was.

 

What had happened to her had scared him and he hadn’t dealt with his fear all that well…Molly knew that.

 

Hopefully they would have their whole lives ahead of them but really in the end no one could be sure. Sherlock no longer wished to waste time. He wanted to grab hold of her and their time together.

 

She too wanted to grab hold of him as well…She had always wanted that.

 

Molly was never sure how long he had continued to hold her hand that day…She knew logically that he had to have let go at some point…But when she woke up again his hand still felt strong and warm within hers…

 

It was strange but she had the strongest feeling that Sherlock’s hand would always be there…If she ever needed it.

 

 _Always_ …

 

Molly also knew that everything was going to be okay, especially with a healing wound upon her flash…

 

And it was for they had each other.

 

~*~ The End~*~

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear wonderful reader, some of you are probably sad not to see Sherlock act vengeance on the bastard that did this to his Molly. However, do you really think prison can keep someone out of the way of Sherlock's wrath? I thought I'd leave that open and let you decide if he lets what happened to Molly go or go all 'bad ass' on the punk. 
> 
> However I do hope you enjoyed this story. Have a lovely day and happy reading! 
> 
> Also, I won't mind knowing that you enjoyed so please let me know...Hugs...


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